


By Any Other Designation

by She5los



Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A Royal Soulmate, Brainwashing, Gen, Magitek, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She5los/pseuds/She5los
Summary: After the assassination of Emperor Iedolas and a good portion of his court, the Resistance has more than a few loose ends to tie up.  One of those loose ends: what should they do with the brainwashed, daemonified Imperial soldiers?





	By Any Other Designation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selador](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/gifts).



The Empire had fallen.  That had been a crap shoot even after Prompto shot Iedolas in the head, but they’d managed to dismantle just enough that the Resistance was able to become the authority.

The thing about interfering with something as big as an empire, especially the Niflheim Empire, was that it already had systems in place to keep things running smoothly.  So their job now, in addition to every godsdamned thing they had to get done to establish peace with Lucis, was to investigate every system the Empire already had and replace it with their own.  They had to do these things carefully and in stages or they’d end up with something worse than what was there before.

Tinia was in charge of a lot of that.  She’d organized information for the Resistance, but that included supplies and money and how to get them to the people who needed them.  She’d had every intention of settling into one part of the government when they took over, but so far, they had too few people and too many problems.

“We’re seeing irregularities at the armories and outposts,” Aranea said, looking down at a report and then up at her cabinet.  “Most of them have cut off communication.  The rest are password- or code-locked before they’ll say anything meaningful to us.  We have people there to deal with the scientists, and they’re reporting…  Well, no hostile MT’s, but extremely abnormal behavior; can anyone go check it out?  I’ll send as much backup as you need.”

The majority of people in that room had been raised in the labs.  There was no way Tinia was sending a single one of them back, even if no one would be able to touch them.  And gods knew she could use a day or more out of her office.  She had two assistants and a room full of lower-level lawyers and accountants; it was time to see how they managed things while she was gone.  She raised her hand and said, “I can do it.”

Aranea raised her eyebrows.  “You sure?” she asked.  “I don’t want to just keep piling work on you.  You’re already handling the treaty wording and arrangements.  And tax and tariff rates.”

“I know,” Tinia told her.  “But you’ve gotten me excellent assistance; I can at least go and see what we can do about whatever’s happening.  Zegnautus is two hours from the outside of town.  I can start out early tomorrow morning, to beat traffic, or leave now if it seems urgent.  But I don’t see them gearing up to attack us with their leadership dead, and the riots in the labs and armories are part of how we got here today.”  Like Aranea had said, the leadership at the labs and armories were being held, pending transport to the former Empire’s prisons.  There was nothing they could do.  The Resistance needed somebody to go investigate, and Tinia could at least kick that off.

.-._.-._.-._

In the end, they sent her with a squad of fighters, all of them volunteers who had never been held in a lab.  Tinia held back while half the squad went to open the doors and investigate inside.

“The doors are open,” a voice said over the comm in her ear.  “That’s weird.  They die in sunlight.  It shouldn’t be – holy shit!”

“What?  What happened?” a woman standing next to Tinia asked.

“Nothing.  It’s all fine.  But uh… There are… There are a lot of bodies.  Just lying there, in the front.  Their helmets are off, so they’re just… empty…”

 _“Fuck,”_ said a young man next to Tinia.  He didn’t say it into the comms.  “They self-destructed.”  He pushed the button on his comm so he could say it to everyone: “They self-destructed.  A lot of them swore oaths to Iedolas.  There won’t be many living in there.”

Tinia and the people with her started moving.  “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine.  I think.  I mean, there’s no one to shoot at me.  Most of them don’t even have…  I mean, there are maybe five corpses in this hallway full of…”

“Get off comms and step outside for a moment,” Tinia ordered.  They were approaching the entrance now and she could see the scout standing, frozen, in the entryway.  The man who’d gone with him put an arm around his shoulders and led him outside.  It wasn’t long before he started retching on the snow.

Tinia surveyed the scene in front of her.  She’d seen needless death before.  Turned out, it didn’t get any easier.  Not with time, or experience, or even an understanding that all of the dead had been brainwashed.  But she had a job to do.  “These aren’t all of them,” she pointed out.  “There are _maybe_ thirty here.  This facility kept over three hundred, plus up to forty test subjects.  We need to push forward.”  She swallowed against the fear that everyone they’d encounter would be dead, that they were too late to save anybody at all.  The test subjects should be okay – they’d be cloistered with the scientists and their guards in the medical area of the facility, and anyone deep enough in the Resistance to be trusted with the Zegnautus reclamation would know exactly how to treat children and teens who had been raised as if they were subhuman.

They moved through the keep.  Some MT’s had ripped their own cores out.  A large gathering in a gymnasium had opened the windows and doors and let the sun do the rest, like the ones in the entryway.  That was where they found the first group of survivors.

A cluster of Magitek units sat, huddled together under a window, full armor and helmets on, mostly still.  They looked up when Tinia and her squad entered the room, and the movement drew Tinia’s eye.  “What are those ones?” she asked quietly, pointing.

They moved forward as a group.  The MT’s muttered to each other in the stilted Gralean they all spoke.

“We won’t hurt you,” Tinia said.  She ordered two of her squad to close the windows.  “We’re here to help you, if you will accept help.”

They muttered among themselves, too quiet for Tinia’s human ears to pick up.

“Who won?” one of them asked.

Tinia swallowed.  “If it wasn’t the Empire, will you self-destruct?” she asked, hoping she was using the right term.

They discussed this.  The one who they’d seemingly selected to speak for the group said, “We believe we swore our oaths to Niflheim, not Iedolas Aldercapt.  We would persist.”

“The Resistance won,” Tinia told them.  The soldiers she’d sent to close the windows finally figured out the controls and metal screens began to descend over all the windows in the training room.  “I am their general here.”  The words felt foreign and slimy in her mouth, but if the children they rescued responded badly to choices and decisions, full MT’s would be worse.  It would be a slow and painful rehabilitation process, if it was even possible to rehabilitate them at all.  With their world already turned upside-down by the change in leadership, it would be a comfort for them to learn they still had a leader to command them.  “Are there other Magitek units you know of that are still active?”  ‘Active,’ not ‘alive.’  All the terminology concerning MT’s was utterly dehumanizing.  But, like taking command instead of allowing free will, helping them to see themselves as people would be a slow process that shouldn’t be rushed into without a plan.

“There are thirty-two in this facility,” the one who spoke said.  “I am too far from any others to confirm their status.”

“Escort me and my people to them,” Tinia commanded.  The MT’s rose to their feet, but hesitated.  Tinia added, “We will give appropriate rites to those who self-destructed.  They did what they believed was correct.  First, we must ensure the other active units are fully functional.”  It was hard to speak with so little sympathy.  It was hard to keep track of the terms Magiteks had been given to describe their own lives and safety.  But it was so desperately important to cause as little psychological damage as possible.

Tinia pulled out her phone and called Aranea's secretary.  She summarized the situation and warned that they would be returning in Imperial transportation.

They managed to rescue twenty-eight of the thirty-two who were still alive.  It took three transport vans to get everybody back to Gralea.  They were to be housed in an empty barracks where human soldiers – now dead – had lived before the final revolt.  Tinia hadn’t expected Aranea to give them a personal audience upon arrival.

“Brave soldiers of the Empire,” she said, flanked by her personal bodyguard and secretary, “I am Empress Aranea Highwind.  I am your High Commander.  Beginning today, your Empire will alter and redefine its Magitek program to better fit its needs.  You will face greater challenges than you have before, so for the purposes of this retraining program, I am revoking the ability of your commanding officers – or any human – to administer corrective punishment, except in cases where physical damage is inflicted upon others.  I trust you, as my sworn warriors, to bear this freedom responsibly.  You will continue to receive nutrition and instruction at the same times as before, but some of your former training time will be repurposed for assorted enrichment activities.  My most trusted soldiers, you have brought glory to your Empire.  Please enter this barracks and claim a bed; as this facility has no storage pods, you will be instructed in the use of a bed before sleep is necessary, and in all other changes your Empire will require to your daily customs due to this facility being designed for humans.  Ifrit’s blessing be upon you.”

“Ifrit’s blessing,” the Magiteks all said in unison, and filed into the barracks.

.-._.-._.-._

A week later, Tinia went to check on the progress the Magiteks were making.  When they caught sight of her, they finished their sparring exercises and lined up to salute.  “At ease,” she said, and they all simultaneously, identically shifted into a less formal stance.

“Soldier,” Tinia said, turning to a Magitek at random, looking up (and up and up) at the mask that hid a real, traumatized person’s eyes.  “Describe yesterday’s enrichment activity.”

“Sir, a sound called ‘music’ was played during sparring, sir,” the soldier said.  She nodded and went to another.

“Soldier, did the music have any effect on the soldiers’ efficacy?” she asked.

“Sir, there were several units who had slowed reaction times, sir,” the second soldier told her.

Tinia nodded.  “Thank you for your honesty, soldier,” she said.  She walked away a few paces so she could address them all and stop craning her neck.  “This is an acceptable outcome,” she told them.  “There will be no punishment administered for distraction during enrichment activities.”  It was _working._   In the Resistance, they’d only worked with children and teenagers – never adults, and never fully initiated MT’s.  They were building this plan from the ground up.  She’d be delighted to share her findings with Resistance members in other cities, who had taken control of other MT’s and were trying to figure out what to do with them when Aranea had forbidden them from just killing them all.

That would be the cleanest solution, was the thing.  Tinia knew it, Aranea knew it, everyone knew it.  Magiteks weren’t technically human, anyway; no one would consider it immoral.  But the Resistance was dedicated to doing better than the Empire had, and they had to try to save as many Magitek units as they could.  If they could foster preferences and free will by giving them new experiences in the afternoons, and by slowly introducing choices they could make, they might be able to avoid some of the difficulty a lot of lab kids had had trying to adjust immediately and completely to free life.

.-._.-._.-._

It was three weeks into the Magitek Rehabilitation Program that Tinia asked to speak to the Magitek units at the beginning of their designated enrichment time.  They’d tried music and stories, been encouraged to experiment with their bedding to find what was most comfortable for them, and had an option to eat real food instead of MT rations at dinner, which an increasing number decided to do.  Tinia was hoping they could introduce breakfast soon; maybe that would be tempting to some of the ones who were wary of dinner.

“Magiteks,” Tinia said, since the program was trying to transition away from the idea that an MT was always a soldier, “I have a difficult enrichment activity to assign you.  You may have noticed that those around you who aren’t Magiteks use names instead of designations.  A name is a word that represents you.  Some choose a name that tells you about their history.  Some choose a name that tells you about their talents.  Some are given names by others.  Your enrichment for this week is to consider a name for yourself.  You are encouraged to talk to your fellow Magiteks about your name, whether you decide to use one or not.  No demerits or punishments will be administered if you continue to use your designation.  I now give universal permission to ask questions regarding this exercise.”

They asked fascinating questions about how to choose a name.  They didn’t really have a concept of names, and only vaguely understood that regular humans had them.  Several of them seemed determined to find a common name that sounded like their designation.  Then, through the magic of having no schema for how to name a person, one MT hit on the idea of using comfort objects and the group exploded into excited chatter, even talking over each other sometimes.  One MT decided to name himself Blanket and wouldn’t hear anything else.  Another immediately named himself after a song he liked – not the composer, but the song.  Several others wanted to follow Blanket, or name themselves ‘Pillow,’ ‘Bed,’ ‘Scarf,’ or any of the several other new objects they’d only learned about after leaving Zegnautus Keep.  One asked if he could name himself after ZRX-7534, a star in the Carbuncle constellation, and Tinia didn’t have the heart to tell him no.  Sure, he’d be going from one designation to another, but one was forced on him and one would be self-chosen and taken from the constellation of a fennec fox with a unicorn horn.

The afternoon was complete mayhem.  More Magiteks ate rations, rather than real food, for dinner, but Tinia had started a conversation and it didn’t seem to be dying down.

By the time their bedtime came around, Tinia had spent four hours longer than she’d intended at the Magitek barracks, five of them had names, seven more were going to try out a name and see if they liked it, and ten of them were still thinking.  Six Magiteks had either decided not to talk about it, were unable to talk about it for some reason, or felt more comfortable holding onto their designation.  The trainers who had been helping keep the MT’s on their old schedule (with some modification to erase the designated punishment time) told her that most of the MT’s had been more verbal that evening than they had been since they arrived.  Tinia hoped the trend would continue, and that they’d all decide on names they liked within the year.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm lucky enough to beta Selador's work, A Royal Soulmate. Sometimes, I throw out an idea and it becomes canon in her fic (or both our general FFXV fanfic universes). Sometimes, she writes something really touching and her art inspires me to make my own. We've been talking about Chapter 10 for weeks, and how Tinia would arrive, and who would arrive with her, and I wanted to show her having a hand in the Magiteks choosing their names.
> 
> Also, please imagine MT's wearing sweaters and other soft clothing to bed and not being entirely sure how to describe liking something or wanting something, but still looking for excuses not to change into their armor in the morning.


End file.
